


Adrift

by MamzelleHermy



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Depression, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, PTSD, Spoilers for season 2 episode 7, post episode s02e07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleHermy/pseuds/MamzelleHermy
Summary: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 SEASON 2After his discussion with Ainsley, Malcolm just doesn't know how to cope. How to deal with things.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 69





	Adrift

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo,
> 
> so, yes, that discussion was just so very painful to me. This whole season is painful. I need people to start taking care of Malcolm. Like REALLY.
> 
> I hope you'll like this take on this!
> 
> And, as ever, be kind, stay safe.

The front door slamming shut followed by the harsh sound of high stilettoes broke the mounting tension that had filled the room after Ainsley’s declaration.

It also startled Malcolm out of his shocked trance, a breath rushing in his lungs painfully. His hand started shaking, his heartrate picking up as anxiety and fear tightened around his chest.

“Malcolm! I didn’t know you’d be there!” His mother’s surprised and slightly suspicious tone engulfed him, not helping with the suffocating feeling in his chest.

He opened his mouth to make his excuses but no sound came out and he just turned on his heels and left as quickly as he could without outwardly running.

“Malcolm!”

His mother’s voice followed him but he didn’t slow down. All he wanted, needed, was go away. He didn’t want to be in his childhood’s house anymore. He didn’t want to be in his sister’s presence anymore. It was too painful. Too frightening.

Because suddenly, all he could see in her was their father’s duplicity and talent for manipulation. 

Ainsley accusations rang back in his ears as he walked aimlessly.

_ “You do know she’s  _ _ kinda _ _ right, right?” _

Malcolm stopped dead and stared at his father, sitting on a sidewalk bench, hospital clothes and cardigan in perfect place, looking relaxed.

The profiler closed his eyes, counted to ten, willing his heart to calm down, hands clenched at his sides.

“You’re not here, you’re a stress-induced hallucination.” He repeated like a mantra.

_ “Well, of course I'm  _ _ a _ _ hallucination. Doesn’t make it untrue. I keep telling you, son,  _ _ we are the same _ _.” _

“Shut up!” Malcolm shouted, making a mother and his littlegirl that had been walking towards him stop and stare before hastily crossing the street. “Damn it!” 

_ “Now you look like a lunatic. You really should be more careful son. You wouldn’t want to get arrested.” _

Malcolm wished he could become suddenly deaf, or best, slam his head against a wall hard enough to make the hallucination go away. He settled to carry on walking as fast as he could, keeping his head down and ignoring his surroundings as much as possible, letting his mind slip in a haze.

He didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want to feel anymore.

* * *

He came back to his senses only when night had fallen. He looked confusedly around himself and suddenly realized he knew his surroundings. 

Had spent countless of days wandering there when he was a teenager with a life too complicated to cope with.

His feet guided him towards the well-known door. He raised his arm to knock. And deflated before his knuckles could make contact. Instead, he let himself slide down until he sat curled under the small porch, back against the wall next to the door where there used to be potted plants flourishing.

He shivered in the coldness of the evening, almost expecting Jackie to come and scold him for waiting outside when he could have just entered with the hidden spare key.

He never thought he would be nostalgic of his teenage years. And yet, as  awful as those where, the pain of the bullying and guilt was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

He had lost everything. Sacrificed everything and all he could do was stare at the devastation around him, not even able to talk to anyone about it because the minute he did he would ruin everything for his mother too.

There was nothing he could do. He was stuck in lies and deceit of his own making. 

“Bright?”

Malcolm’s head rose slowly, mind and body  weak with exhaustion. His eyes settled somewhere around Gil’s shoulder, unable to face his mentor’s eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

The profiler shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. How to explain. Without explaining.

“Do you want to get in? Have a drink? You look like you could use a tea.”

“I’m fine.” His voice was  cracked , barely a whisper.

Gil hummed, carrying on his way to the door.

“You’ve been there long?”

Malcolm shrugged again. Gil’s phone biped twice in quick succession just as he slid his key in the door. He checked it.

“That’s your mother. Demanding if I’d seen you.” He let the sentence hang for a minute, quietly observing Malcolm. He sighed. Before coming to settle down next to Malcolm with only a small grunt.

Another one of Malcolm’s mistakes to add on the growing pile suffocating him.

“Should I be worried kid?” Gil finally asked after a long time, just as he would all those times, a long time ago, when Malcolm would come hide his sorrows here.

Malcolm snorted quietly. The irony of Gil worried for him hitting hard. Would he still worry if he knew the true extent of the darkness lurking in Malcolm’s psyche? Would he still even sit next to him like that?

“I’m...”

“You haven’t been fine in a very  long time kid.” Gil cut though his sentence. Not harshly, not cruelly, just stating an obvious fact.

Malcolm let the words float around him. 

Maybe he had never been fine and probably never would be. Not anymore.

Gil’s warm hand settled on the back of his neck and rubbed the tense muscles there. Malcolm wanted to shake him off, feeling undeserving of comfort when all he did the last months was lie. But he found himself unable to and, without meaning to, he felt himself start to cry, silent tears soon turning in harsh sobs that felt like thew had been suppressed for months, if not years.

* * *

Watching Malcolm break down in front of him sitting on the cold floor was not how Gil had expected his evening to go. He pulled the younger man towards him, hugging him and rubbing his back, trying to get him to calm down. He had no idea what brought this on but he had been expected it.

He hadn’t needed Dani’s observations to see that Malcolm had been struggling. He had seen the increased franticness to solve cases, the ever-growing dark circles beneath always worried-looking blue eyes. But he also had known that it wouldn’t have achieved anything to push for answers. Malcolm never had answered direct questions on his mental health and he had learned to be patient about it.

He hadn’t thought things would turn out just like that. The number of times he had seen Malcolm cry could be counted on one hand, mostly when his father has been condemned and Jackie had died. It was deeply worrying and Gil struggled to figure out how to react to it.

“Please Malcolm, tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how I can help.” He asked after a time when the man in his arm had slightly calmed down, sobs replaced by quiet shaking.

“You can’t.” It was barely a whisper but Gil could hear the profiler was sure about this.

“Try me.”

Malcolm pushed himself away but didn’t look at Gil, tired gaze lost somewhere far away. The  lieutenant wished he could read minds.

“Do you think I’m like my father?” The profiler finally asked after so long Gil had thought he wouldn’t speak again.

“Of course not!” He readily answered. “From where does that come from?”

“I manipulate people. Make them do what I want. How is that different from him?”

Gil frowned. Questions about Malcolm and Martin resemblances had been a long-held concern during his teenage years but not for a long time. Everyone would tell you Malcolm could be manipulative and intense but it was always for the right reasons.

“You do it to save people. To talk suspects down, not to hurt them.”

“Yet it does.”

Gil didn’t know what to say. He could see Malcolm wouldn’t hear reason. 

“How about we go inside and you tell me what truly bothers you?” He suggested instead, pushing himself up with a grunt as his still not quite perfect muscles shifted in his abdomen.

He opened his door and waited for Malcolm to move, watching as the young man unsteadily got up, before entering his home and taking his coat and shoes off.

He turned and saw Malcolm frozen, hand shaking at his side.

“Malcolm?”

“Sorry. Sorry. I can’t. I’ll go.”

And with that he was gone, stumbling down the three wooden steps and walking away before Gil had even time to blink.

“Damn it!” Gil huffed as he struggled to put on his shoes again. “Malcolm! Come back!” He jogged to the main street in time to see the man sit in a passing cab. 

His gut twisted in anxiety. He hadn’t seen his almost-son like that in more than twenty years and it wasn’t good memories.

He quickly ran back to his house and found his phone in his jacket’s pocket, not losing a second to dial Malcolm. Without much surprise, the man doesn’t pick up.

“Malcolm. Call me. You don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you. Just... Let me know you’re  okay ...” He searched for something more to say but knew he couldn’t sound too pushy.

His phone buzzed in his hand and for a second his heart soared as he thought it would be Malcolm. He looked down to see his mother’s name. He hesitated but picked up.

“Gil. Thank God! Have you seen Malcolm? I’ve been to his flat and he wasn’t there and he isn’t picking up his phone. Or answering his texts.”

And if Malcolm’s attitude wasn’t worrying, the desperate tone in Jessica’s voice was.

“He was there. But he left. What happened Jess?”

There was a long  silence at the other end of the line.

“I... I don’t know Gil.” The lieutenant would bet his badge that was a lie.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course, I am!” She sounded a bit too offended. Gil sighed.

“Look. Maybe we should leave him for a bit. I’m sure he’ll contact us when he’s ready.” He proposed even if he knew he wouldn’t stop trying to reach Malcolm and would probably find himself at his door the next morning.

“Yes... Yes... Maybe you’re right...Thank you Gil.”

She hung up leaving Gil even more confused. Jess had been lying and Malcolm was obviously troubled by something. He just wondered when it would all implode and just how bad things would go.

* * *

His phone kept ringing and buzzing until it stopped from lack of battery.

Malcom didn’t care anyway. He had taken twice his usual meds, had shackled himself to his bed and curled under his covers, letting the haze of benzos blur the world around him. He was neither conscious nor unconscious, drifting in artificial nothingness.

After a time, the buzzer from his door pierced the silence, startling him. The sun coming through the windows cued him that it was late morning. Slowly, he opened his restraints and stumbled up.

_ “You might want to get that. You know how your mother gets when you ignore her.” _ His father commented from where he was sitting at his kitchen counter.

Malcolm ignored him in favor of replenishing Sunshine’s food and water. The small bird eyed him reproachfully when he didn’t let her out. 

_ “Really son this is ridiculous you can’t ignore the world forever.” _

Instead of answering, Malcolm took out another handful of pills, more than he should be taking he knew, and swallowed them with a couple mouthfuls of water.

Thankfully the pills acted fast and by the time he was back on his bed, his father had finally disappeared and grogginess was settling in. And when his mother finally decided she had enough waiting for him to open the door and simply barged in, it was easy to feign sleep.

She didn’t seem to catch it and left him. He let out a deep breath as he heard her leave, willing himself to drift off again.

He didn’t know for how long he stayed like that, getting up only when the accusing voices in his head or his hallucinations became too bad. He made them disappear with more pills. Too many, he knew. He didn’t care. He just wanted to forget. He wanted for everything to stop. 

Hours or days later, his door’s buzzer woke him up. He opened one bleary high to the night sky but quickly closed it when he felt the room spin around him. He groaned softly, wondering when was the last time he had eaten anything. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t particularly care either.

The loud buzzing didn’t stop and was mildly annoying but Malcolm couldn’t find the will to get up. It finally stopped and then a faint scrapping sound filled the room. Malcolm wondered what Sunshine was playing at. It was a fleeting thought. 

“Bright?” He frowned. He had never hallucinated Dani before. Well except in that strange  alternate reality where he had everything.

He forced his mind away from it. He couldn’t bear to think of that when he had lost everything. He wished he had stayed there.

“Hey Bright? You with me?” He groaned as he was shaken softly. Uncoordinatedly, he tried to push the hands away, forgetting he had his restraints on and being stopped by them.

“Stop being childish now.” The scolding tone made him open his eyes, frowning at the curled hair spinning above him.

“Dani?” He asked, his voice croaked and he winced. “How did you get here?”

He thought he saw her blush.

“You keep forgetting I grew up in the Bronx, don’t you?” Her teasing sounded forced. “How are you feeling?”

Malcolm frowned again, his thoughts were muddled, slow and incomplete and he felt exhausted even if he hadn’t moved in God knew how long.

“Malcolm?”

The use of his first name startled him. He realized he must have been drifting again.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, eyes falling close despite himself. He felt her cold fingers on his wrist. It was oddly comforting.

“Hey, hey, no falling asleep on me yet.”

Part of him wanted to obey her. The other just didn’t care. The later won and he let himself drift again.

* * *

Dani watched Malcolm’s eyes close, shaking him again. It was clear he wasn’t okay, and not just mentally. His pulse was thready beneath her fingers and it was obvious he had lost weight in the days she hadn’t seen him.

She cursed herself for not checking on him earlier. True, she had called and texted but she hadn’t come. She had thought that maybe he needed time to sort himself out. 

She had talked to Gil about it and he had seemed just as worried as her. And yet they had done nothing either.

They were responsible for this. 

She was at a loss of what to do.

She did the only thing she could think of and called her boss.

“Powell? Aren’t you supposed to be home?” He asked as he answered.

“I’m at Bright’s. I think you should come. I.... I don’t know what to do...” She was only half surprised to hear how  shaky her voice was.

“I’m on my way.”

She stayed on her knees next to Malcolm, fingers on his pulse as she waited. She looked around herself, trying to find clues on what was wrong with her friend. She could see his bird sleeping in her cage, food and water at an acceptable level, the rest of his flat was in its usual pristine condition. Except for the  pill's bottles on his counter.

She had been there enough times to know he usually kept them in a neat row, a weird habit of bringing calm in chaos that always amused her. But now they looked spread haphazardly. She hesitated but it was clear Malcolm wouldn’t notice her leaving his side. 

She hated snooping in his private life but knew it was a necessity. It was clear the bottles were all more than half empty and yet the delivery date was only a week  prior. She wasn’t a specialist but it seemed a lot.

The buzzer shook her from her investigation. She glanced at Malcolm’s form but he hadn’t moved so she went to open the door. She had barely the time to pull it open before the man barged in, eyes frantic as they quickly swept the room before falling on Malcolm.

He didn’t seem to see her as he hurried towards the bed.

“Kid? Malcolm?” He shook the young profiler who barely reacted. Dani’s gut twisted painfully. “What’s going on with him?”

“I’m... I’m not sure. He was briefly awake when I arrived but he didn’t seem completely coherent... Gil... I... I checked his meds and I think he took too much...” 

Even saying the words out loud made her feel sick. Seeing Gil’s face crumble didn’t help. He looked like he had aged ten years in ten seconds.

“Call 911.” He finally said, voice chocked as his hand reached to Malcolm’s hair. Suddenly she could see how much like a father he felt towards their profiler.

She turned her back to the scene to make the call because she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop crying. She needed to be strong.

EMS came quickly and she was grateful for Gil’s hand around hers as they auscultated the man, swapping medical terms that didn’t sound good.

“We have to take him in. It looks like benzo overdose but he’s also severely dehydrated.” 

Both cops nodded, feeling numb with fear and guilt.

“How did that happen?” Dani whispered as they watched Malcolm get loaded on a stretcher, not even reacting anymore.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” 

Dani nodded. She would be right with him on that. She had known something was wrong with Malcolm for a long time. She should have done more to know what. She should have done more to let him know he was not alone. But that was before. 

She was not about to let her friend down. Not again.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I hope it was any good! 
> 
> Don't hesitate to comment or kudo or anything!


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